Trials
by Zaadi
Summary: In the far kingdom of Cameliard, Merlin has become the physician's apprentice while Arthur has become the Captain of the Guard. Why Arthur chooses to remain in his enemy's service baffles many, except for Merlin, who continues to try to keep Arthur in the dark about his increasingly public magic.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **First, this takes place in an alternate universe branching off from the end of series two; so no mentions of events in series three or beyond. Second, this is a renovation of another story, "The Heir of Cameliard" that I thought needed some restructuring. Some massive restructuring. Except for two or three scenes, this is a completely different story, but I'm keeping both versions up for my own reference (and I'm only mentioning it in case you're reading more than one of my stories).

* * *

**XIXIXIX**

* * *

**Trials**

The horse's hooves echoed against the stones as Arthur and Caradoc entered the courtyard of Cameliard. They dismounted, Caradoc alighting lithely from her saddle. She wore black trousers and a black shirt, a purple stone pendant swinging as she moved. She brushed her road-dusted black hair away from her olive-skinned face and glanced behind her. Arthur, meanwhile, gave the reins of his horse to a servant; and then he joined her. He wore a blue shirt and leather vest—the attire he'd worn when he first arrived in Cameliard with nine of his knights. Despite the fact that Cameliard permitted magic, when King Leodogran had asked him to stay, Arthur had consented (keeping his name a secret)—and now he stood as the Captain of Leodogran's guard, in the twilight, beside Anna's watchful confidante.

Four other riders approached the courtyard. Princess Anna, Leodogran's only living child, wore brown trousers and a blue bodice over a white shirt. Her blonde hair unraveled from her braid as she talked with Blaise, the court physician-sorcerer, and Sanam, the midwife, who plodded along on her pack mule. Most of the conversation was between Anna and Sanam, with Blaise only occasionally nodding his dark head. His dark hands held his reins loosely, and Arthur couldn't tell if he was actually listening. Merlin rode even further behind, slowly, reins and the road both forgotten as his horse meandered after the others. He held a book, above which floated a tiny orb of magic light that counteracted the bleak dusk. He also wore the brown trousers and shoes he'd worn from Camelot, but his shirt was a fine dark green under a long, dark-grey coat that he had chosen when he became Blaise's apprentice, for it reminded him of his father's.

Lord Erik, perched at a window high above the courtyard, watched the scene—Princess Anna, Blaise and the midwife joined Anna's friend and the fair Captain of the Guard. The Captain lifted the Princess off her horse, though she needed no such assistance, and Blaise hissed for his dark-haired apprentice to hurry up.

"Is everything all right, Lord Erik?" Lady Julia, the King's cousin, arrived at Erik's side. Two of Cameliard's council members followed. Lady Julia was Erik's main connection to Cameliard—it was she who had arranged with King Lac to have Erik court Anna. Erik had been in Cameliard several weeks, but the ways of King Leodogran and his daughter were still mysterious to him.

"Does the Captain always spend so much time with Princess Anna?" Erik asked.

"It is the Captain's duty to ensure her safety," said Sir Sagramore, a retired knight, who clasped his good right hand around his useless left as he halted beside Erik.

Erik continued to stare out the window.

"Anna has some notion of making our physician attend to every peasant and gypsy living anywhere near Cameliard." Julia turned her head toward Sagramore and Cole. "A notion which Leodogran encourages," she muttered.

"And she needed an escort to a nearby village?" Erik asked.

"There are still many dangers on the road," Sagramore replied.

"Thieves accost travelers," Sir Cole nodded, a patch over his right eye, as he leaned against a cane. He was the youngest member of the council, but had the most scars.

"And threats disguised as salutations come from unfriendly neighbors," Sagramore finished.

"These are minor concerns," Julia put her arm around Erik's shoulder, steering him away from the window. "Cameliard has many friends, and has proved more than capable of defending itself."

"I hear Cameliard has the Captain to thank for that," Erik said as Julia escorted him away.

"The Captain is an asset, not a savior," Cole called after them.

"Don't worry about the Captain," Julia smiled up at Erik as they vanished from Cole and Sagramore's sight.

"Did you get it?" Sagramore whispered when he and Cole were alone.

"Do you know how many love potions there are?" Cole replied, removing a folded piece of parchment from his shirtfront.

"We only need one."

* * *

Leodogran leaned heavily on the table, his hands covering two sides of Cameliard's territory on the map. His shadow loomed long upon the floor of the great hall as the morning sunlight streamed in—the only illumination necessary. Arthur, standing beside him, aborted his question.

"Sire?" Arthur said instead.

"Hm?" Leadogran straightened. "If Lot tries again—"

Leodogran was interrupted by the opening of the hall doors. Lord Erik strode confidently in, a clear intent in his footsteps as he approached the king and genuflected.

"My lord, I am sorry to disturb you," Erik said.

"My guest is never a disturbance," Leodogran replied. "Stand up, Erik."

Erik stood: "I wish to prove my worth for your daughter's hand."

Leodogran raised an eyebrow.

"I want to show you that I am worthy of Princess Anna."

"I see," Leodogran said thoughtfully. "All right, I'll arrange a test—no—three—that's the usual number for these sorts of things, isn't it?" he asked Arthur.

"I wouldn't know," Arthur said.

"Really?" Leodogran said; then he turned to Erik. "So be it. Sir Erik—prepare, three times shalt thou be tested. But you might not find yourself as ready as you believe."

Erik bowed low, and as he left, Arthur whispered to Leodogran, "Are the tests really that hard?"

"I have no idea," Leodogran said.

* * *

The air was warming with the day. A waning gibbous moon hung in the clear morning sky—its whiteness almost transparent against the pale pristine blue.

"Is it special?" Merlin asked Blaise. The two of them stood with Tiernan, the Druid advisor of Leodogran's council, atop the tallest tower of Cameliard. At least, the tallest tower without a roof. Merlin flipped through the pages of the book in his hands—Blaise's own systematic study of the moon's cycles. Marginalia covered every page in various inks—the notes Blaise had added over the years.

"That's no way to learn," Tiernan said. "If you want to know the moon, you must greet the moon." He tilted Merlin's head up.

"So what does it mean?" Merlin asked, closing the book.

"That the moon will be new in two weeks," Tiernan said; Blaise smirked.

"Magically, I mean—there's notes about druid lore in here," Merlin opened the book again.

"Yes." Tiernan gave Blaise a disapproving look.

"The knowledge should be preserved," Blaise said.

Tiernan sighed. "Perhaps. But not taught. Not like this."

"So how do you learn?" Merlin said.

"Years with a master. By living it. Magic isn't a list; it's . . ." Tiernan sought for words, "the world's soul," he concluded. "If you want to understand magic, you have to feel the give-and-take, the pulse . . ."

"The balance?" Merlin said. Tiernan nodded.

"Are you a master? Is that why your mark is blue?" Merlin indicated the tri-swirl at the nape of Tiernan's neck, almost hidden by braided white hair.

"You've seen other druids with brown markings, I take it," Tiernan said.

"Druids are not a unified kingdom, Merlin," Blaise said. "And they do not all share the exact same beliefs—you would do well to remember that."

"But you all practice the Old Religion," Merlin said.

Blaise waved away the objection. "That just refers to anyone who respects a priestess of the Old Gods. Or whose worship involves _any_ magic whatsoever."

_And even priestesses can differ, Emrys, _Tiernan mind-said to Merlin as Blaise cocked an ear toward the open trapdoor where footsteps clacked on stone stairs.

Blaise's name rose from the hole; a second later Arthur's head bobbed up. "Leodogran wants to see you," Arthur said once he'd joined them. "Alone," he added when Merlin moved.

Blaise nodded. "The moon matters, Merlin. Study both," he pointed to the book in Merlin's hands and the moon in the sky as he walked away.

"The moon matters?" Arthur turned to Merlin and Tiernan.

"All nature matters," Tiernan said.

"For gathering herbs . . . for healing?" Arthur asked.

"Yep. That's exactly it," Merlin said, smothering the book between his arms and chest.

"Druids reckon the days by the moon, not the sun," Tiernan said. "Blaise feels Merlin should know our ways. Would you like to learn?"

"Maybe another time," Arthur said. "I have duties." And with one final glance at Merlin, he left.

* * *

By mid-afternoon the whole of Cameliard was abuzz. A makeshift arena was under construction on the grass plain behind the city—rumor had it on the orders of Princess Anna—and gossip spread wildly as to its purpose. Arthur couldn't pass a single knight, noblewoman, servant or urchin without hearing some whispered conjecture. The only ones who weren't talking about it were Anna herself and Leodogran. Anna's strange friend Caradoc was also silent—but then, she was often silent—and Arthur hadn't run into her all day, though he'd seen her that morning wearing humble servant's clothes. When Arthur made his daily tour of the city—hearing yet more rumors from the merchants dealing with their final customers for the day and smelling the aroma of mutton and fish—he spotted Caradoc emerging from the stables with her black Arabian.

"And where are you off to?" Arthur approached. She wore black trousers, black boots, a purple pendant atop a black shirt and a black strip of linen tied around her hairline. She also wore a sword.

"Business for Anna," she said, making an adjustment to her saddle.

"Naturally."

Caradoc grabbed two knives from her pack. She tucked one into her boot and one under her belt at the small of her back.

"I should come with you," Arthur stroked the horse's nose.

"Let me guess—because the roads are dangerous."

"Or maybe I just want to know exactly what it is that you do."

"You'd be in my way. Besides," she said, finally giving Arthur her full attention, "you're needed here. Taste Anna's food and drink, and guard her at night—"

"Are you giving me orders?" Arthur smiled with amusement.

"Every time Anna has a suitor, somebody tries something," Caradoc said sternly. "And it's not always the suitor. If you want your servant to taste her food, fine—but you need to personally guard her at night. Nobody gets in or out."

"What are you worried about?—someone using a love spell to sway her decision?"

"Or some other form of enchantment."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully and stared off into the dark stones of Cameliard's walls that were growing darker with the fading light of the just-set sun. Caradoc studied him curiously.

"What would you do if you caught someone?" she asked.

"You're worried about a sorcerer?"

_Worried about a sorcerer,_ Caradoc repeated silently to herself. To Arthur she whispered, "I'm worried about what the son of Uther Pendragon might do in order to catch a sorcerer."

Arthur started. "I-I w-woul—" he sighed and closed his eyes. "Blaise told you."

"Hardly."

"Who else knows?" he asked her.

"Just me and Blaise. I think. Cameliard isn't stupid, Arthur—Uther is making a lot of noise looking for you. And your men complain loudly."

Arthur was quiet. In the pause, Caradoc softened, and gently touched his arm.

"I haven't said anything yet, and I won't say anything now. But time is running out." Caradoc mounted her horse and then gazed down at Arthur. "And Anna better be herself when I get back," she said.

* * *

Merlin pretended to read the book of anatomy that Blaise had given him—since, after all, Merlin wanted Arthur to think he was Blaise's apprentice only in matters of medicine. Merlin sighed at the tediousness of keeping up appearances in Blaise's chambers where it was just the two of them. Y_ou need to know this_, Blaise had said. Merlin slowly turned the page, but looked at Blaise rather than the book.

"What do you think it takes to be a good king?" Blaise asked, discerning Merlin's disinterest, even while concentrating on a small, shiny black stone upon which he was carving.

"Well, he'd have to be a good person first." Merlin longed to ask if Blaise was carving runes and what they meant.

"And second?" Blaise's eyes flashed gold and the cuts in the stone shimmered.

" . . . wise . . ." Merlin leaned his elbows on the open book, crunching the binding.

"Let me guess," Blaise said, "third, he has to listen—especially to magic advisers."

"They do have the best advice."

Blaise sighed and shook his head—a small, private movement. "And how would you test for such admirable qualities?"

"Shouldn't they be obvious?"

"Do you think Arthur will make a good king?" Blaise stared at the black stone, rubbing it between his fingers.

"He's going to be a great king," Merlin beamed.

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"You don't think he's good enough to know about your magic," Blaise commented.

"That's different—magic's illegal in Camelot—I could lose my head—it has nothing to do with Arthur."

_Hmm_, Blaise still gazed at the stone. "What was your first impression of Arthur—that it was so very obvious he'll make a great king?"

"Why are we even worrying about this?" Merlin turned another page of the book. "Why do we have to test Erik's worth for Anna's love?"

"Is that what you think this is?"

"Think what is?" Anna entered the room from the side door, which connected Blaise's chambers to the long room where beds were lined for wounded.

"Merlin wants to know why we're testing Lord Erik."

"Because Lord Erik requested it," Anna said. "Is it ready?"

Blaise handed her the black stone.

Anna clasped the stone. "Funny how I keep losing these," she said dryly.

"Not all of them, it seems," Blaise said, indicating the bracelet on her wrist. Merlin stared at it—it was woven out of some sort of thin rope and had three red stones braided, into it. As he stared, he realized that there were runes etched into the three stones.

"Can't be too careful," Anna said. She held up the stone, "Thank you, Blaise." As she walked toward the door leading to the corridor, Merlin called her back.

"Anna—do you love Erik?"

"Why would that matter?" Anna faced him.

"You're testing him to marry you—why? You either love him or you don't."

Anna scoffed. "I am not choosing a husband for myself, Merlin—I am choosing a king for my people. _That_ is why we test Erik. Love is not relevant."

With that she marched out of the room, the door wide open behind her. Merlin turned to Blaise for explanation, but the sorcerer was putting away his tools.

"Anna's bodyguard is gone," Blaise said, devoted to his task. "You and Arthur will be responsible for making sure no harm comes to her tonight." He looked up, "in case you wanted to ask any other questions."

* * *

Merlin sealed the windows in Anna's chambers, conducting the spell from memory. In each pane, his face reflected against the darkness of the night. Behind him, Anna placed the black stone beneath her pillow. She smoothed the blankets of her bed—her thoughts elsewhere—and then surveyed her chambers. Someone knocked.

"Come in," Anna called and Arthur entered. And Merlin hurried to finish—discreetly—the final window before swinging around.

"How's it going?" Arthur asked, focused on Anna. Merlin relaxed—somewhat.

"I should just take up residence in the dungeon," Anna said.

"It's for your own safety," Arthur said—but Anna had heard it before.

"Would someone really use a love spell on you?" Merlin asked. "I mean, no one's tried yet."

"No," Anna admitted, her face knit with concern.

"Nothing will happen to you," Arthur touched her shoulder. "I promise."

Anna forced a smile.

* * *

A single candle lit Sir Sagremore's chambers where he and Sir Cole poured over the stolen love potion. Each had sent separate servants to acquire most of the ingredients—getting one or two themselves. The candle was insufficient light, but necessary to avoid suspicion, as it was well-known that Sagremore retired early. Cole incanted a few final words over the ornate goblet stamped with the seal of Cameliard—the standard ware from which the royal family drank.

* * *

The hour was late. Anna and Arthur played chess, sitting at one end of a long table in Anna's chambers. Merlin, seeing little use in the game, watched indifferently in his chair beside Arthur. Anna's bed had not yet been turned down, and the room was bright with candles and a warming fire. Anna checkmated.

"You're rusty," she said.

"How would you know, you've never played me before—I could be letting you win."

"So you always purse your lips like that?" Anna said. "And clench your jaw and glare rudely. . ."

Merlin chuckled and Arthur tried to protest—but he yielded, deciding that another game was better than being the source of gibing revelry. He reset the pieces.

"Does Lord Erik play?" He asked casually as he made the first move.

"Of course," Anna said, ignoring the board and staring innocently at Arthur. Merlin perked up, sensing a change in the game.

"But you're already playing another game with Erik," Merlin interjected. "With his heart."

The air thickened. Arthur reached his hand around Merlin, as if to hug a friend. "I'm sorry," he said, pinching Merlin's neck. "Merlin's too stupid to know what he says sometimes." Merlin cringed.

"Actually," Anna said, moving a pawn, "Merlin just thinks I should base my people's welfare on a flimsy heart's whim."

"Can someone please explain to me why love isn't important?" Merlin said, wriggling out of Arthur's grip.

"So a tyrant king is acceptable to you so long as the queen _loves_ him?" Anna sneered.

"What?—no—that's not—"

Someone knocked softly as Merlin stumbled for words. No one heard.

"Oh," Anna said, "an idiot king, then."

The door opened slowly, unnoticed by all three. Anna's servant Rhona entered the room, staring at a goblet, decorated with the seal of Cameliard, in her hand.

"My lady," she said quietly.

Arthur rose, but Merlin and Anna stayed seated.

"Your nightcap," Rhona said, holding the goblet out in front of her.

"Thank you," Arthur took it from her. Rhona tried to leave.

"Rhona," Anna called her back. "Who said I requested it?"

"I was told my lady needed her nightcap," Rhona said.

"By whom?" Anna said.

"I was told."

Anna stared at the girl a moment. "Thank you, Rhona—that will be all."

Rhona fled; Anna stood and took the goblet from Arthur, closing the door herself. She examined it, sniffed the contents—then pushed it into Merlin's hand. "Pour this somewhere on the ground outside—out of the way—and then have Blaise cleanse the goblet."

Merlin looked into the cup and sniffed—he could smell nothing—no scent at all. He placed the goblet on the opposite end of the table while Arthur returned to his seat. Anna was pensive for a moment—looking strangely relieved. A silence followed.

"You're right," Arthur said, drawing Anna out of her reverie. "A kingdom needs a strong leader. But an arrangement doesn't have to be bad . . . I mean . . . it can work—"

"Did your parents love each other?" Merlin said, picking up one of Arthur's pawns.

"Their marriage was arranged," Anna said. "Cameliard got much-needed men and horses."

"That not what I asked." Merlin replaced the pawn.

"I suppose," Anna finally said, looking at the aborted game. "My father says they did. He says they were lucky—that mother loved him enough to give him four wonderful children. As if heirs were a woman's kindness. I think he loved her—he was devastated when she died. And he never took another wife—even though Julia tried to finagle some unions. Until he got old and I came of age . . ."

"So Julia came when your mother died?" Arthur asked.

"She stayed after my mother died. She visited often when mother was alive. Sometimes I think mother preferred having her around, even though they disagreed on so many things. Julia likes her position—sees purpose in her 'duties'. And she can order people around like a juggler . . . My mother could never quite believe in Julia's world. Queen Jascaphin was a mask somebody else made her wear."

"Was—" Arthur said hesitantly, "was she h—"

"A bad queen?" Anna said abruptly—and shrugged. "How does one judge? She was very pretty, if that's important."

"Were they happy?" Merlin asked.

"I think so," Anna said. "But you know what's strange?—I know she used to smile, but I can't see it. I always see her as sad." Anna drifted. "Maybe I'm only remembering her after Dylan—my brother—died, when she was always tired."

A silence weighed down the room as Anna picked her fingernails. And when she remembered her guests, she smiled weakly. "And what about you?" she asked Arthur. "What was your mother like?"

"I don't know," Arthur said quietly. "She died when I was born, and my father never talks about her. He never remarried, either. Everybody says they loved each other—well, the few people that are willing to tell me anything. Sometimes it's like she never existed—and sometimes it's like—like she haunts the halls." He looked up at Anna. She reached over and took his hand, holding it for a moment.

"Maybe we should play a different game," she said.

* * *

Dawn found Merlin and Arthur outside Anna's chambers. Arthur stood at attention, but Merlin lay slumped over sleeping, his breathing even and rhythmic. Sir Nabon, one of Camelot's knights, approached, stopping before Arthur.

"Sire," Sir Nabon said. "King Leodogran wishes to see you."

"Of course," Arthur nodded. Sir Nabon watched him, uncertain and uneasy.

"Is there something else?" Arthur asked.

Nabon almost spoke, but reconsidered. "No, Sire—nothing else."

Arthur nodded and moved to kick Merlin; Merlin dodged him.

"I'm awake," he protested, grunting as he pushed himself against the wall to standing.

"Good," Arthur said. "I want you to check on Anna—taste her breakfast personally."

"Okay, okay," Merlin muttered, knocking on Anna's door as Arthur and Nabon walked away.

* * *

Sun streamed into the great hall, illuminating the hanging tapestries. Around the table sat the council: Sagramore, a retired knight who'd lost the use of his left hand in a battle years ago; Gaudifier, who kept a well-groomed beard beneath his baldness; Lucas the Old; Tiernan, a druid; Alaric, who'd been on the council since Leodogran was a child; the brothers Idris and Erling; Cole, the youngest man on the council, who had lost his right eye and had his right foot maimed in the same battle that had cost Leodogran's eldest son, Gotegrin, his life; and Blaise.

Leodogran sat at the head of the table with Arthur on his right.

"Lot is still building an army," Gaudifier said.

"He won't attack us," Blaise said, clasping his hands before him on the table.

Alaric leaned forward, "especially since he knows we have allies." He turned to Arthur. "Or are Echel and Iona only _your_ friends?"

"They are Cameliard's friends," Arthur said quickly. "They'll aid you if Lot attacks."

"What about Royns?" Cole stared coldly at Arthur. "He was indifferent to us before you defeated half his army—and killed the nephew who led it."

"Don't mistake being busy elsewhere for indifference, Cole," Lucas the Old said. "Royns is as greedy as Lot."

"But neither is making any overt moves against us," Idris said. "Not yet. Our most pressing problem at the moment is the raiders picking away at us like vultures."

"I can increase patrols throughout the kingdom," Arthur said to Leodogran. "I'll stop them."

"We know our own lands better than you do," Sagramore said, "and we couldn't find them—but somehow you will?"

"It's more likely that they're hiding outside our kingdom," Alaric said, "and we can't march a patrol of knights into someone else's territory without declaring war."

"What about spies?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, we've thought of that," Sagramore replied.

"Continue rewarding information, and maintain our patrols," Leodogran said. "Until we know more, there's no point in doing anything rash. What else?"

"Has Anna made a decision concerning Lord Erik?" Lucas asked.

"No," Leodogran said firmly.

"Sire," Sagramore said, "Erik is an admirable warrior—"

"But we are looking for a king," Leodogran said. "So unless you think Anna is incapable . . ."

"Of course not," Lucas said. "Anna's a good girl; she'll do what's best for Cameliard."

"Is there a danger of love potions?" Arthur asked.

The council fell silent, a furtive glance tossed here and there.

"The Captain asked a question," Leodogran said in a tone Arthur had never heard before.

"There have been attempts to force Anna's heart," Idris finally said. "But the Princess is astute and vigilant—"

"And has been well-guarded in the past," Cole said.

"—and has never been permanently harmed," Idris finished.

"Were the perpetrators caught?" Arthur asked.

"No," Leodogran said bitterly, staring in turn at each member of his council. "If anyone hears _anything_, they are to inform Blaise or the Captain immediately."

The room was quiet for a moment, until, with a wave of his hand, Leodogran adjourned the meeting.

"Oh, one last thing," Tiernan said, looking at Arthur as they were standing. "King Uther Pendragon of Camelot has misplaced his son."

"What has that to do with us?" Alaric narrowed his eyes.

Tiernan shrugged. "I thought we should all know that Uther is searching every inch of the land for his son." He stared at Arthur, "you haven't heard anything, have you?"

Arthur stared back at Tiernan. "Not since I was last near Camelot."

"I doubt Uther's messengers will bother with us," Leodogran said. "If one does, we treat him with respect—" he gave a warning look to Alaric, "and send him off with our ignorance."

A heavy moment passed while everyone waited for more to be said, but nothing was. The meeting thus concluded, the council slowly dispersed, Blaise throwing a heated look at Arthur as he left. Arthur ignored him and waited with Leodogran.

"Your council didn't like me here," Arthur said once they were alone.

"Are you saying they actually agreed on something?"

"Why did you ask me to attend?"

Leodogran considered Arthur. "Have you ever thought about being king?"

"I suppose—maybe." Arthur traced the grain of the table slowly with a finger, avoiding Leodogran's penetrating stare.

"I wanted your opinion," Leodogran said. "This is my test," he swept his arm around to encompass the table. "For Lord Erik."

"The council?" Arthur couldn't decide if Leodogran was joking.

"Too cruel?" Leodogran did seem amused.

"I don't get it," Arthur said.

"Really?" Leodogran said, and Arthur thought he seemed disappointed.

"He just has to sit in on a council meeting?"

Leodogran sighed. "Being king is not all battles and banquets—most of it is this—just sitting in council meetings, settling minor disputes, treaties, upholding your own laws, keeping your people harmonious—boring, I know, but it has to be done. The man my daughter marries must understand that." Leodogran's face fell, all traces of humor gone, replaced by what Arthur could tell was a deep unhappiness.

Merlin entered the hall—a buoyant presence contrasting with the sudden solemnity. He bounced up to Arthur and Leodogran, trying to control his exuberance.

"You're needed in the arena," Merlin said to Arthur.

"Let the testing commence," Leodogran said with faux grandeur. "That means go."

"You're part of the test," Merlin clarified. "I've already got your armor polished in the tent," he said as he pulled Arthur out of the room.

The arena outside was makeshift. It consisted of a wooden wall fencing off an oblong area of dirt where the grass had been cleared away. On one side—center stage—stood a small, raised pavilion containing three chairs. In the middle sat Anna, wearing a deep crimson dress, jewels at her throat and a tiara on her head; Blaise sat on her left and the chair on her right was empty. Knights lined the wall of the pavilion behind her, and people sat or stood on the grass behind the wooded wall—the area was a natural, if slight, basin, so most had a decent view—and it was jam-packed. Each of the two shorter sides of the arena had an opening in the fence for entrance. Arthur's tent was a short distance away from one entrance—an island in the crowd. Another tent stood similarly placed behind the opposite entrance.

"I take it I'm fighting Erik," Arthur said as Merlin finished adjusting his armor.

"Yep," Merlin handed Arthur his sword, smiling. "And everyone's excited to see a tournament—well, a sort-of tournament."

Arthur girded on his sword and paraded into the arena, an immense cheer rising the instant he emerged from his tent. He carried his helmet under his arm, and the crowd parted as he walked forward. Erik, entering at the same time wore his helmet—through the eye slits, Arthur could feel the intense gaze. The two met at the royal pavilion, turned to Anna and bowed. She stood, quieting her people.

"This is a trial of character," she addressed the entire arena, "a test of skill, of strength, and above all, honor." She turned to the fighters. "You may begin."

Arthur donned his helmet and faced Erik—they were simply two knights now, indistinguishable in identical armor. They paused, circling each other before Erik lunged forward, only to be deflected by Arthur. The ensuing fight was intense, expert, and at each thud of sword against shield or successful blow, the crowd roared. Arthur eventually got the upper hand, tripping his rival, whose helmet fell off as he rolled out of Arthur's reach.

Her helmet; as she rolled—it was Caradoc, not Erik.

Arthur stopped. He stared at Caradoc. She stood and retrieved her sword, unfazed. Arthur looked to Anna, and saw that Leodogran now sat on her right—they each stared at him with expressionless gazes, offering no clue as to what they expected Arthur to do. Merlin had also entered the pavilion—he stood behind Blaise—but he was involved in whatever scheme was at hand and merely waited with amusement. So Arthur bowed his head to Anna and threw off his helmet. He squared off against Caradoc again, fighting her with the same intensity as before, until he disarmed her. He placed his sword at her neck, demanding she yield. And the crowd cheered. Anna smiled.

The Princess stood; her father stayed seated, though the pride in his eyes was undeniable. The crowd silenced itself.

"A king must see things as they are, not as what he has been told they should be," Anna said. She turned to Arthur. "And our Captain has proven that he knows a dangerous opponent when he meets one—despite appearances."

Leodogran stood and applauded, the crowd's hands echoing his. Caradoc bowed to Anna and her father, but Arthur simply stared at Leodogran—and the gaze Leodogran returned was uncompromising—it held Arthur even as Caradoc escorted him off the field and into the Royal Pavilion. As they quit the arena, Anna raised her hands and again the crowd fell quiet. Leodogran seated himself.

"And since it would be such a shame to waste all the wonderful work put into this arena's construction," Anna said—and the crowd erupted and Anna smiled—and from both opposing entrances to the arena two jesters came, throwing a barrage of insults at each other as prelude to a mock battle.

When Anna finally reseated herself, Erik came forward from the shadows at the back of the pavilion.

"So I was supposed to beat her up," Erik said, staring across the heads of Anna and Leodogran at Caradoc and Arthur.

"A test of strength and prowess is traditional, I hear," Anna said, watching the jesters—Leodogran cleared his throat in warning and gave his daughter a reproving look.

"I apologize, Lord Erik," Anna said, motioning for Blaise to get up. "Please, sit down."

Once Erik took the seat next to her, she continued. "As long as Cara had her helmet on, you fought an equal, you didn't hold back—but once she lost her helmet, all you could see was a woman, and you judged her based on what you think a woman should be rather than the proof Cara had just given you of her skill. You think the Captain was wrong to keep fighting—that he acted dishonorably—but he understood that Cara's skill didn't change with the loss of her helmet."

"Although," Cara spoke up, still on the other side of Leodogran, "the Captain has seen me fight in battle—I'd say he had an unfair advantage."

"Plus, he's lost to a girl before," Merlin said. "He didn't much care for it."

Arthur glared at Merlin, but Merlin persisted in his mirth.

"Then he learns from his mistakes," Anna said.

"An excellent trait in anyone living," Blaise said as he grabbed Merlin's arm. "Come, _we_ have work to do."

They left the royal party to the jesters—Arthur and Caradoc taking up stations behind Leodogran and Anna—and wound their way through the jubilant crowd.

"Do I get to learn something," Merlin said, "or do you still have to figure out a test?" Blaise seemed not to hear Merlin above the voices and cheers, but Merlin had learned enough about him to see through it. "We're doing the test, aren't we?" Merlin said once they were clear of the crowd and approaching the castle.

"The king's orders come first, Merlin," Blaise replied, and as he said it, his gaze wandered up to the parapet where the Lady Julia stood, watching the arena from afar.

"Wait," Merlin paused suddenly, "are you testing Arthur, too?"

"If the Captain wishes to conceal his identity, how else are we to discern his intentions?" Blaise watched Julia turn and disappear from view.

"But I thought Anna was just messing with him."

"That too," Blaise said, and he and Merlin continued on to Blaise's chambers in silence, both too preoccupied by private thoughts for further conversation.

* * *

Tiernan stood atop a small hill, some ways beyond the crowd, but just close enough to see the players in the arena. Two jugglers performed various acrobatics, and the castle walls loomed in the background. Alaric, having watched the official contests, joined Tiernan on the mound.

"What do you think of Anna's test?" Tiernan asked, as the people roared with laughter.

"Concerning the wit of a king, or the way she went about it?" Alaric turned to face the arena rather than Tiernan.

Tiernan also kept his gaze glued to the performance. "You're in a mood—are you disappointed that Lord Erik didn't quite pass or that the Captain did?"

"An intriguing question," Alaric said, "which sounds like a decided interest in the Captain."

"He is the Captain of our guard."

"The Captain, whom the King is vetting; why the sudden—" Alaric turned to Tiernan, " . . . you know who he is."

"He is a man with good reason to keep his name a secret." Tiernan still gazed ahead.

"Which implies we all know who he is," Alaric said thoughtfully. "And earlier, you were taunting him with the news that Uther Pendragon was—"

Dread fell across Alaric's face.

"Tiernan—tell me—please tell me he's not—"

"It seems the prince prefers to be judged by his own actions rather than his father's. An understandable desire, don't you think?"


	2. Chapter 2

The sun had just started to set when Anna concluded the games. The arena, of course, would have to be dismantled, but that was for tomorrow. For tonight, the people meandered cheerfully back to their homes. Erik escorted Anna to the door of her chambers and bid her good night.

"That was almost fun," Anna said, leaning against the closed door. Caradoc was already there, removing her armor piece by piece.

"Almost?" Caradoc teased, placing her gauntlets on the table. "You were so happy to be presiding that your father might actually allow tournaments again."

Anna smiled in silent acknowledgement as she took off her necklaces. She walked across the room to her bureau where she kept her jewelry. Finished removing her armor, Caradoc picked up the forgotten goblet from the table and peered inside it.

"Well, if nothing else," Anna said, moving to a basin of water, "we've at least proven the Captain's skill—I can't believe he beat you." She splashed water on her face.

"There's always somebody better," Caradoc said, raising the goblet in salute. Anna dried her face, and when she looked up from her towel, Caradoc, goblet to lips, was swallowing rhythmically.

* * *

"Well at least we know the potion works," Cole whispered to Sagremore.

"She was supposed to be gone," Sagremore said between clenched teeth. He stared across the throne room at Caradoc, who was leaning ever closer to Lord Erik.

"Do we try again?" Cole still whispered. A tense ambience pervaded the room. Various courtiers and councilmen conversed quietly in twos and threes, with an occasional glance toward the small circle of knights surrounding Lord Erik and the Princess's companion. More surreptitious glances were directed toward King Leodogran. A few servants waited discreetly against the walls, beside the torches and candles that lighted the room.

"No," Sagremore said, noting Leodogran's foreboding countenance as the king listened to the deliberations of those around him: his worried daughter, Blaise and his apprentice, Sir Bors, and the fair unnamed Captain.

"Make sure the page is destroyed," Sagremore addressed Cole, but his eyes followed the Lady Julia—she was the only one migrating around the room. "We'll leave this matter to those with greater finesse," Sagremore concluded.

"Julia hasn't tried anything yet," Cole said. "Maybe she has more faith in Lord Erik than we."

"It's not faith in Erik that's the problem," Sagremore said, looking at Princess Anna. Her face was filled with concern as she watched her friend.

Anna's brows furrowed, her gaze fixed on the circle half a room away.

Caradoc giggled audibly; Erik fidgeted.

Caradoc bit her lip and arched her body toward Erik; he glanced impatiently at Anna.

Anna ignored Erik; Caradoc continued to flaunt herself coquettishly.

"Maybe we should lock her in her room," Bors said to Anna.

"I did," Anna said, still watching Caradoc. "She got out."

"Erik seems to be handling her okay," Merlin said. "I mean, she's in love, she's hardly a threat."

Anna glared knives at Merlin.

"Depends on the potion," Blaise said firmly, calming Anna with a gentle hand on her arm.

"Do we know who did it?" Arthur watched Julia patrol the room.

Bors shook his head. "We'd have already arrested them," he said regretfully.

"I just want to know if we can lift it," Anna said.

"Not without knowing which potion was used," Blaise said.

"What about True Love's Kiss?" Merlin said.

"What about Rhona, the servant girl?" Arthur said. "Ask her who gave her the cup."

"True love's kiss isn't a guarantee," Blaise said. "It's too dependent on emotional nuance."

"Will it hurt to try?" Leodogran asked. "Caradoc does have . . . history here."

Blaise looked away. "I'd rather have certainties than hopeful guesses," he said quietly.

"Please, Blaise," Anna touched his arm.

"And what if it doesn't work?" Blaise asked.

"We can ask your servant Rhona where she got the goblet," Arthur reiterated.

"No, we can't," Anna snapped.

"Why. Not?" Arthur said.

"Because a noble gave it to her," Anna hissed.

Arthur started to reply, but found no adequate response.

"Wouldn't _you_ listen to her?" Merlin asked Leodogran.

"And it would still be just a servant's word," Arthur said ruefully.

"One person's word against another's doesn't help," Leodogran said. "I need proof."

"There has to be something we can do," Arthur said.

They all looked over to Caradoc. She clung to Erik, her arms wrapped insistently around his neck. Erik tried to pull her off and back away—unsuccessfully.

"We can try to lift it blindly," Blaise sighed.

* * *

The spell was lifted with a kiss. Erik brought Caradoc into a private chamber where Anna, Blaise, Merlin, Arthur and King Leodogran waited. Caradoc felt confused and betrayed—until Blaise kissed her. All watched. But only Merlin thought the scene sweet and romantic—he thought he was seeing a softer, more vulnerable side to his stern and private teacher. Anna hoped desperately that the kiss would work; Erik stood dutifully beside her—his demeanor had turned to sympathy once he was no longer the object of unwanted attention. Leodogran also looked on apprehensively, while Arthur . . . Arthur locked his thoughts away, his face a cipher.

No longer afflicted by the potion, Caradoc blinked and steadied herself. Blaise ordered her to get some sleep and see him in the morning; Anna and Erik escorted her out, Anna wrapping a protective arm around her. Leodogran told Arthur to question the kitchen staff as well as any servant who might have come into contact with the goblet, _without terrorizing anyone_—Leodogran was adamant on that point. Arthur dutifully left, and Leodogran, after a thankful nod of approval to Blaise, followed after.

"Come," Blaise said to Merlin, "we have a goblet to clean."

"So: you and Cara," Merlin said once they'd entered Blaise's chambers. It was deep into the night, and Merlin had to light more candles—which he did gleefully using magic.

"No, not me and Cara," Blaise snapped. He picked up the goblet from the table where he'd laid it earlier in the evening, and once again sniffed it.

"True Love's Kiss doesn't lie," Merlin said.

"'True Love's Kiss' doesn't exist," Blaise said. "It's a myth made up by morons for imbeciles."

"Oh really. Then um how did you lift the spell?" Merlin sat down casually at the table.

Blaise banged the goblet on the table. "You know what I was going to do if I couldn't lift it?" He leaned in close to Merlin's face. "I was going to have _Anna_ try. Or do you not think friendship counts as love? Real love has many forms, Merlin—it's not as narrow as your mind. And if you'd done your job like Anna asked, Cara wouldn't have been in this mess."

"And you wouldn't have had to face your fear that you're not her One True Love."

Blaise rounded on Merlin; Merlin held his ground, staring up at Blaise from his chair.

"Didn't you have some lesson about prioritizing other people's lives over your own comfort?"

"Someone tried to steal a woman's free will, and you think this is about love," Blaise seethed. "Yeah, I have a lesson for you. Now get out."

* * *

As soon as the sun hit the horizon word spread of the attempt on Princess Anna. The whole of Cameliard was rife with suspicion—and excitedly-whispered tales of What-Really-Happened. Arthur was determined to pull the truth from out of this morass, and thus interviewed every servant in the castle. He questioned Rhona first thing in the morning and several more times throughout the day. He questioned her as gently as he could, and he made sure to question others in between. It didn't matter. Her head fell further down her chest each time until Arthur was convinced she was talking to the specks of dust on the floor. She twisted the ends of her dirty sleeves, or worried a loose stitch on the side of her faded green tunic-skirt. Her responses shifted as well: _t'was given to me, my lord_ became _t'was in the kitchen where the Princess's food always gets put_—a premise no one in the kitchen could confirm. Once she claimed her mind had wandered _as 't often does, my lord_, and she had simply realized she was carrying the goblet. Anna told him to stop, but Arthur knew Rhona saw who had personally placed the goblet in her own two hands. He cornered her one final time, and she blurted out _I just wanted to help Cameliard—I didn't mean— _and then became incomprehensible. Tears ran down her cheeks. Arthur finally put two hands on her shoulders to stop her broken, choking explanation. And still he had no proof.

As for Leodogran, he issued a public edict reminding his people that the use of love spells was a crime—a point he reiterated to his nobles in a fully-summoned court. Arthur glanced around during the King's speech, several times pausing on Anna's distant, indecipherable face. She was spending her day with Caradoc, who stood next to her in servant's attire and systematically studied the nobility. Lord Erik, who was as concerned as Leodogran, stood by the King before the court, ready to defend the Princess's honor. Yet Arthur's attention invariably fell on the Lady Julia, who stood prominent among the nobility and seemed, as far as Arthur could discern, impatient.

Later, Erik endured his Test of the Council—which he understood no more than Arthur—nor could either decide how Erik had fared.

Merlin, meanwhile, tried not to fall asleep throughout the day as he examined every book in Blaise's library. Blaise had charged him with finding a book with a torn page, on the assumption that whoever had made the love potion had stolen it.

"What if they stole a whole book?" Merlin asked. _Or used their own,_ he thought.

"All my books are here."

Merlin looked up at the wall of filled shelves and wondered how Blaise could possibly be certain a single book wasn't missing, but he held his tongue.

"And if I find a book with a missing page, what then?" he asked instead. "What good does it do?"

"Maybe none," Blaise replied, his mind on other things.

"I'm being punished, aren't I?"

"You're being employed—now find the book."

And so Merlin flipped through book after book—many of which were duplicates, many in the same precise hand—and many of which were too interesting to put down. Merlin would lose himself in one only to get smacked by Blaise whenever he returned. At noon, a servant brought Merlin some food. As the day waned, Merlin's eyes grew dry and unfocused. He blinked often. When he lit every candle, the light seemed insufficient. But when Blaise returned in the early evening, Merlin had found a book with a page clearly ripped out.

"Now what?" Merlin said.

Blaise looked at the book, then at the bookshelf. He picked another one out and flipped through the pages. Merlin glanced over Blaise's shoulder to see that the book in Blaise's hand was a copy of the one with the torn page. Blaise found the spell, nodding as he read through it, satisfied that it was the potion in question. He put both books back on the shelf and then looked around his chambers—half his books were piled on tables and the floor, while the other half remained neatly organized on the shelves. One small pile of books was set aside from the others.

"Light reading?" Blaise said as he picked up the top one: _Rhydderch Hael, History and Legend_. "History?" Blaise raised an eyebrow and glanced at Merlin. "That's not your thing."

"I'm full of surprises," Merlin said. "Is it true?"

"Some of it—that's why it's called history and legend—sometimes all I got were colorful tales."

"You wrote it?"

"I gathered it."

"You copied a lot of these books," Merlin said with admiration, now that he didn't have to comb through them all.

"I preserved them. Are you interested in manuscripts?"

Merlin caught a change in the tone of Blaise's question and hesitated. "No," he finally said.

"Just spells of transformation?" Blaise held up another of Merlin's selection.

"It could be a useful thing to know."

"Hmm." Blaise moved the pile to a table. He chose, instead, a different book from another pile and then went to a cupboard full of parchment and vellum and several newly-stitched books. Blaise took one of these and handed both books to Merlin.

"Copy this," Blaise said, turning away. "It's also useful."

Merlin finally opened the books once he was in his own chamber room. One was on the gathering, use and preparation of herbs, and the other was blank. He turned to the first pages of both. An inkwell and quill lay on his table, but Merlin ignored them. Instead, he hovered one hand over the first page of the herb book, and his other over the blank page and recited a charm.

The blank page filled with the duplicated words and images of herb lore. Merlin smiled and turned the page. Holding his hands just above again . . . he paused, and looked down at the thickness of the book itself. He closed the books, placing a hand on each cover, and spoke a different spell.

As Arthur walked in.

"What are you doing?" Arthur stopped in the doorway, pointing to the books.

"Oh," Merlin looked at the books, "um, Blaise asked me to copy this book for him. Did you find out who made the love potion?"

"No," Arthur turned his back to close the door, and Merlin swiftly peeked inside the formerly-blank book to see it now filled with herb lore. He slammed it shut as Arthur turned around again.

"Did you find out anything?" Merlin asked.

"No," Arthur approached the table. "No one knows anything, and the number of people in Cameliard capable—is pretty much anyone who can read."

"What about Rhona?"

Arthur opened up the books and scanned the pages without really noticing them. "It's like she's been hurt by all this as much as Caradoc or Anna." He shut the books with a strange gentleness.

Merlin nodded sympathetically, and then asked, "How _is_ Cara?"

"She blames herself for not paying attention." Arthur walked over to the window and peered out into the twilight—and closed the shutters. He glanced awkwardly at Merlin's books, and then washed his face in preparation for dinner.

Merlin flipped through the pages of the books, marking the perfection of the duplicate—it was an exact copy. He could've taken pride in it, but—

"Arthur, are we going to talk about this?" he said, still staring at the books.

"I'm not interested in herbs, Merlin."

"That's not what I mean." Merlin turned. Arthur splashed his face with water and grabbed a towel, contemplating it in his hands.

"How long have you been practicing magic?" he said to the towel.

"Well . . ." Merlin cleared his throat. "Let me think—the witch—priestess—whatever—Ninaeve—gave her mandate—"

"See, Merlin, this is why I don't want to talk about it—because _you_ don't want to talk about it. Every time I ask you about yourself, you evade the question or give some vague nonsense. So why don't I just go away and let you finish 'copying' Blaise's book." He threw the towel at Merlin's head and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

Two servants were cleaning up Anna's bath when the Lady Julia walked into her chambers. Rhona was combing Anna's wet hair while Caradoc sharpened arrowheads.

"By all means, enter," Anna said.

Julia tilted her head to the two servants at the tub and they scurried out, each carrying a half-full bucket of dirty bath water—the tub had only a few inches remaining. Julia took the comb from Rhona's hand—Rhona bowed and left. Caradoc ignored Julia altogether. She placed the sharpened arrows in an armoire that held several types of bows as well as crossbows, arrows and bolts. Julia cleared her throat.

"Cara," Anna said, and Caradoc carefully closed the armoire doors; she eyed Julia as she left the room, shutting the door hard enough to send several candle flames flurrying.

"She needs to be careful," Julia said as she grasped the ends of Anna's hair.

"And your concern compels you to comb my hair?" Anna said.

Julia pulled the comb through the bottom inch of Anna's hair. Then she combed the bottom two inches, meticulously working her way up Anna's head.

"Lord Erik passed your little test," Julia said.

"Is that so?" Anna winced as Julia attacked a knot in her hair.

"He remembered your little friend is a woman and treated her with courtesy—"

"With condescension."

"—and respect."

"Respect?" Anna tried to turn around, but Julia held her head forward. "He ignored every skill Cara proved she had and acted like he was being forced to fight a child."

"He _was_ responding to a child. You insulted him."

"I confused him. Is that what you think a king should be? Unable to adapt in the face of surprise?"

Julia sighed, gently drawing the comb through the full length of Anna's hair. "For such an intelligent girl—why is compromise so hard to understand?"

"Why is a king with a brain so wrong to expect?" Anna lowered her eyelids to stare at her hands. "Lord Erik needs his hand held."

"Then you hold it."

"Right," Anna jeered, "power in the shadows, I forgot." Julia ignored the taunt, and Anna turned in the chair to face her. "Do you really think that Erik, the gallant, the gracious, the courteous and courtly—the perfect noble knight—is going to listen to a woman? He'll only hear advice from an aged soothsayer—if it comes from an unconventional source . . ."

"Fine," Julia threw the comb in Anna's lap. "Erik has a few things to learn. But you don't know everything either. Now, when you're done being intransigent, your father and your guest are waiting."

Julia swerved on her heels, the hem of her gold-embroidered skirts shushing softly against the floor. She gave Anna a final admonishing glare and left; Anna picked up her comb and threw it against the closed door.

* * *

When Merlin stepped into Blaise's chambers the next morning, he found Blaise sitting at his writing table, transcribing a book. "You know, there's an easier way to do that," Merlin said, holding up both copies of the book of herbs.

"How much is a fatal amount of nightshade?" Blaise concentrated on his task.

"What? I don't know—you haven't told me. Any?"

"It's in the books you hold in your hands."

"You didn't mention—"

"That you were supposed to learn from the exercise?" Blaise looked up. "Magic isn't meant to be used to avoid hard work."

"I don't use magic to avoid work—I work plenty hard, trust me," Merlin sat down.

Blaise blew on the page he'd just transcribed, coaxing the ink to dry. "Don't get comfortable," he said. "We are testing Lord Erik today."

Merlin sat forward eagerly in his seat. "So what did you decide to do?"

* * *

_Blaise just said to get you—and to hurry._

It was all Arthur could tell Erik as they rushed down the corridor, the urgency in their steps rising as they neared Anna's chambers. Outside of which Caradoc waited—she opened the door for them.

Both Erik and Arthur had reached for the pommels of their swords, ready to draw and fight as they burst into the room. Caradoc quietly closed the door behind her and stood at attention near the wall. She was dressed in black, her trousers tucked into her scuffed boots, a sword at her side and a knife at her back. But she was calm.

And only Blaise and Merlin faced them. Erik and Arthur relaxed their hands, and stared at the unconscious Princess lying in the middle of her bed. She wore a simple light blue dress and no jewelry; her fingers peeked out from the edges of broad sleeves, and her feet were bare beyond the hem. Her hair was arrayed about her head and shoulders—a soft, wispy nimbus around her sleeping face.

But this was no normal sleep—Arthur and Erik could see that instantly—Anna lay like a statue carved from flesh.

"I'm glad you came, Lord Erik," Blaise said, seated on the bed beside her while Merlin stood at the foot. Arthur and Erik realized this was Erik's final test—Arthur's eyes shot to Merlin, but Merlin was focused on Blaise.

"What do you need me to do?" Erik asked.

"The Princess is under a sleeping spell that can only be lifted by True Love's Kiss," Blaise said.

"You can't be serious," Arthur said.

"For purposes of this test I am," Blaise said.

"And for purposes not of this test?" Merlin asked suspiciously.

Blaise stood, "In reality," stepping towards Merlin, "'true' is merely something real, honest and meaningful; as opposed to something false, fake or fabricated. Only genuine emotion is required to lift such spells," he stared straight into Merlin's eyes, "a young girl's passing fancy would work so long as she _truly_ felt her loving feelings. Real love is beautiful and precious," he whispered to Merlin, "but it is not singular."

Merlin stared defiantly back at Blaise.

"But this spell is different," Blaise turned, addressing the room. "It is a spell of _Romance_—it can only be lifted with a kiss from her soul mate—her spirit kin—the one with whom she is Destined to be." Blaise turned to Erik, "Are you ready to assay this adventure?"

"You get a battle and a giant serpent," Erik muttered to Arthur. "I get this."

Arthur ignored Erik's comment. "What's the point of this test?" he asked.

"No point, really," Blaise said. "I just thought it was time to do away with all this courtship nonsense. Either you and Anna were meant to be," he said to Erik, "or you weren't. Simply kiss her and find out. Five seconds. No more politics, no more arrangements, no more dining with strangers. Cameliard needs a king, and only the Princess's heart can pick one. Shall we?" Blaise gestured Erik to the bed.

Erik took one step forward and stopped.

"You put the enchantment on her?" he asked Blaise.

Blaise nodded.

"If I can't lift it, you can—the Princess is in no real danger?"

Blaise nodded.

Erik nodded apprehensively and sat down on the bed. He hesitated. He placed his hands on either side of Anna's body and slowly leaned toward her. Softly, he kissed her lips.

And still she slept—surprising no one.

Erik stood. "What happens now?"

Blaise considered Anna for a moment. "What do you think should happen?" he asked Erik. "There's still the problem of succession. Maybe we should leave her as is, where she can play no more games with the noblemen who come to court her. We just lead them up here, have each one kiss her, and if she wakes, we have our next king. It's a wonderfully simple solution, really."

"You're making fun of me," Erik said.

"No, I'm not," Blaise said succinctly.

"You think I would degrade Princess Anna like that?—by making her kiss a dozen men—two dozen—how many would it take?"

"She's asleep," Blaise said. "She's not even aware, let alone acting of her own free will—it's not her fault how many men come to kiss her."

Arthur glanced at Caradoc. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She had made no move since closing the door, but she did not look happy.

"It could be a hundred," Blaise continued. "If we're lucky, one will show up before Leodogran dies. But what if the right one doesn't come for twenty years," he looked at Merlin, "what will happen to Cameliard then?"

Merlin glared impatiently at Blaise.

"But of course, that doesn't matter," Blaise went on, "the people will gladly idle along, waiting for their ordained king. And won't Anna be so happy not to waste twenty years learning love on her own—she just wakes up one day and magic hands her everything."

"Wake. Her. Up," Erik said.

"That's a good point," Blaise said. "What if her One True Love isn't a nobleman? We should probably start having the townsmen line up—farmers, merchants, blacksmiths, bakers—any man who can kiss can be king."

"How is someone going to wake her if she doesn't have a 'passing fancy'?" Merlin sneered.

"No," Erik said. "Wake her up _now_."

"This kingdom has for too long waited for Anna to make her choice," Blaise said. "There's no reason for this tedious dance of suitors—"

"Blaise!" Arthur said. "The test is over. Erik has answered your question. Now lift the curse."

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to try, dear Captain?"

"No. Anna can choose for herself. And the succession of kings definitely shouldn't be determined by a sorcerer's trick."

"So be it," Blaise demurred. He chanted a long spell, weaving his arms about in the air, and when he finished, Anna opened her eyes. Arthur, Erik and Caradoc rushed to her side.

"That was it?" she asked Blaise, sitting up as if she had merely blinked. He bowed his head.

And while Anna reassured the others that she was perfectly unharmed, Blaise moved to Merlin's side, returning Merlin's gaze of steel.

* * *

Sir Brandt of Camelot took a few tentative steps in the room he shared with Sir Rigel. His leg was healing nicely, Blaise had said. Brandt held onto the end of the table with one hand, his other gripping Sir Taran.

"Why are we still here?" Rigel said, watching from his seat on one of the beds as Brandt released Taran's arm to try a step on his own.

"Prince Arthur wants everyone to be healthy and whole before we make the long journey back to Camelot," Madoc said, sitting on the other bed.

"What—did you memorize his every word?" Rigel said. "You're turning into Cadoc."

Cadoc looked pensively out the window and gave no response.

"It's easy to memorize _those_ words—Prince Arthur says them often enough," Taran said, catching Brandt as he lost his balance on his weakened leg. "That's enough for today."

"I think by the end of the week, I'll be ready to go," Brandt sat down on a chair and rubbed his calf muscles.

"But will the Prince?" Rigel asked.

"Is there a problem?" Arthur said from the open doorway, startling his men. Cadoc turned; Madoc and Rigel sprang to their feet. "Please," Arthur entered the room, "bring it to my attention."

Merlin, clutching a book to his chest, stood in the corridor and peered around the corner of the doorway, making no attempt to cross the threshold or announce his presence in any way.

"King Uther is looking for you, Sire," Cadoc said.

"I'm aware of that."

"If he finds you here . . ." Cadoc didn't finish.

"He might wonder why you've been away for so long without contact," Taran said.

"You're saying he might think I've been enchanted?"

"If he has no other news," Taran looked straight at Arthur.

"And what do you think?"

The knights all glanced around at each other.

"It is strange to be staying under an enemy's roof for so long," Sir Rigel finally ventured.

"Have we been treated as enemies?" Arthur asked.

"They don't know who we are—who you are," Taran said, to several nods of agreement.

"Actually, some of them do," Arthur said.

"But if the king knows you're his enemy—" Madoc glanced around at the other men.

"I am not his enemy. And Leodogran himself might not know yet—so we are going to continue our silence. Am I clear?"

"Is there a danger?" Taran asked.

"Is there?" Arthur's voice had a growing edge.

"Well he does encourage sorcery . . ." Brandt began.

"He allows sorcery," Arthur said. "Does that make him evil?"

"Magic is . . ." Madoc started then stopped when Arthur glared at him.

"How much evil have you seen since we arrived?"

"Leodogran's advisor is a sorcerer—" Taran said.

"And how many acts of evil have either of them performed?"

"Druids roam the streets . . ." Rigel said quietly, looking down and not finishing his thought.

"How many acts of evil?" Arthur asked again. "Where's the cabal? Where are the sorcerers spreading hate and lies and fear and plotting ruin upon the world? Because all I've seen here are people living their lives." Arthur looked around at his men. "We are staying until it is time to leave—and I don't want to hear about any more complaining."

* * *

Later, lying awake, Merlin could hear Arthur breathing in the adjacent bed. A single candle burned low, and the book Merlin had brought was cracked open on his chest, ignored.

"I was born this way," Merlin said into the silence.

Arthur turned his head.

"I've always been able to do magic—I can't not do magic." Merlin's breath caught and his blood pounded as he waited for Arthur to respond. Arthur just stared at Merlin.

"My earliest memory is of a toad flying toward me," Merlin continued. "I wanted to play with it, but it hopped away, so I just—I don't know—it just came to me, and I knew that I had done it. That I could do it again."

"Why come to Camelot?" Arthur said finally.

"My mother sent me. She was worried the other villagers would find out—about me."

"Hunith was worried about your safety, so she sent you to Camelot?"

Merlin chuckled softly, "I think it was more that Gaius was the only person she trusted, and he lives in Camelot, so—here I am."

"So all this time you've been practicing magic?"

"How else could I constantly save your royal ass?"

"I don't need magic to save me, Merlin," Arthur threw back his blankets and got up.

"Oh, but sometimes you do," Merlin smiled to himself.

Arthur glared at him, pacing the room. Door, window, door, window—back and forth, his steps too quick and curt for the small space.

"Arthur," Merlin said quietly as Arthur finally paused long enough to pour some water from the ewer on the table. "I don't know how not to be this way."

"I'm not mad at you, Merlin," Arthur started to bring the mug to his lips, but paused, "I'm just not looking forward to finding a new servant."

"You're sacking me? Do you realize how much I've done for you—" Merlin jumped out of bed.

"I'm not sacking you. But you'll be in danger in Camelot," Arthur waved the mug around, "and anyway, you have to finish training with Blaise. The Priestess said."

"My life's always been in danger in Camelot—that's not going to change just because you know—I mean, is it?" Merlin met Arthur's eyes; Arthur looked down into the mug of water. Merlin continued, "as long as I exist, my life is in danger—magic is illegal in a lot of places."

"All the more reason you should stay in Cameliard. Does this water smell funny to you?"

"Don't change the subject. I can correspond with Blaise, I'm not leaving you. Besides, Camelot is my home—okay you're right this water does smell funny," Merlin said as Arthur shoved the cup under his nose.

* * *

"It's an anti-love potion." Blaise pointed to a page of the open book beside his breakfast.

"Good thing it smells," Merlin said, leaning over Blaise's shoulder. Arthur was the only other person in the room, and he stood on the other side of the table, arms crossed.

"An antidote to a love potion?" he said.

"No," said Blaise, "this one is for somebody already in love—it nullifies their feelings."

"Someone wanted me to not be in love? That's ridiculous."

"Maybe someone really wants you to leave Cameliard," Merlin said.

"And they think I'm staying because I'm in love?"

"That's as good a guess as any," Blaise said. "And you do spend a lot of time with Anna—"

"Which is my job."

"And she has a suitor. Someone's making assumptions."

"Who?" Arthur asked.

Blaise shrugged, "that's the problem with Anna and love spells—it doesn't always happen and it never seems to be the same person when it does. Depends on who the suitor's supporters are."

"So it could be anyone?" Merlin said.

"No," Arthur stated, "one person is more persistent than anyone else."

With that he walked out of the room.

"You'd better make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Blaise told Merlin.

* * *

Arthur's knock on Julia's door was a command—he let himself in to her chambers.

"Captain. To what do I owe the pleasure of this intrusion?" Julia sat in an elaborately carved chair while a nearby scribe jotted notes down on parchment.

Arthur motioned for the scribe to leave, but Julia commanded him to stay.

Arthur stared at Julia. She wore a voluminous red and gold dress, three necklaces of varying lengths and two rings on each hand. Her brown-gray hair was piled high atop her head. She stared back at Arthur with keen brown eyes.

"You will stop this campaign against Anna and Leodogran," Arthur said.

Julia laughed. "Campaigns are for wars, dear Captain—a subject I find tedious."

"Uniting houses, however, is your expertise." Arthur matched Julia's sneer.

"I make introductions. Any ensuing formalities are happy incident," Julia smiled.

"A love potion in Anna's drink, an anti-love potion in mine—what's that?—unhappy incident?" Arthur stepped toward Julia, who stayed seated.

"On behalf of Lord Erik, I'm insulted. Do you think he needs such aids?"

"I think you're more interested in the next king of Cameliard than you claim," Arthur said quietly. "I think you'd love to have a nice, pliant pawn on the throne."

"On behalf of Lord Erik—"

"You have to have shame before you can be insulted! This has _nothing_ to do with Erik."

"At least you're finally right about something," Julia stood. "Leodogran may blithely indulge his daughter's fantasies, but this kingdom needs a _king_, and I am not the only one who sees that."

"This kingdom has a king."

"Not forever. No kingdom does. You don't honestly think Uther's going to live forever, do you Arthur?" Julia stared at Arthur's face. But Arthur gave no flick, no tick, no in-breath of response; he stared right back at her. The scribe, however, looked up in shock.

"Anna's minion isn't the only one who can intercept messages." Julia almost smiled.

"It bothers you that Anna thinks for herself," Arthur stated softly.

"Anna is a child," Julia sneered. "She claims to be pragmatic, but lives in a dreamworld—she thinks if she waits long enough a perfect king will magically arrive—and that's her realistic hope. Is that why you're here, Arthur—to be Anna's perfect king?" Julia scoffed. "That would be an interesting failure to watch. Too bad any day now Uther's going to show up to take his mutt back home."

"You'd better hope not," Arthur said. "Because if my father finds out someone tried magic on me, taking me home will be the last thing he does. _My Lady_."

The scribe finally exhaled when Arthur slammed the door.

* * *

Merlin had decided not to follow Arthur. He followed Blaise, who gave an order to a servant and then made his way to Cameliard's great hall. Merlin snuck in through the small door behind the throne and pressed himself behind a tapestry where he'd once hidden before. Daylight from the windows brightened the hall, scattering all shadows. Blaise waited. Merlin waited. One by one, members of Leodogran's council entered.

"Where's the king?" Sir Gaudifier asked.

"Observing Erik, who's training with the men," Blaise replied as the brothers Idris and Erling, the last in, closed the doors. "And Anna is out riding."

"So it's just us?" Sagremore said, unsurprised but intrigued.

"What is it you want, Blaise?" Lucas the Old asked. Blaise scanned the gathered men—Lucas found the brightest patch of sunlight while Cole leaned impatiently on his cane; Tiernan stood the farthest away—though the men were by no means dispersed—and Alaric also stood aloof; Sagramore stared; Gaudifier glanced at the throne; and the brothers crowded together beside Blaise.

So Blaise produced a mug with a flourish from beneath his robes and presented it to Alaric.

"Theatrics aren't usually your style," Alaric said, taking the full mug. "What is this?"

"An anti-love potion—note the singular odor, still quite strong."

Alaric didn't move.

"We must indeed be desperate if you're involving yourself in such a way," Blaise said to him quietly.

"You didn't need to call us all here for this," Idris said.

"I want to know who here has tried a love spell on Anna."

"You just accused Alaric of using an anti-love potion on her," Sagramore said.

"Oh, he didn't use it on Anna," Blaise said. "He tried to give it to the Captain."

"Why would you object to the Captain marrying the Princess?" Lucas the Old asked Alaric.

"Has he even asked to court her?" Erling said.

"It is hard to deny that there is at least a shared . . . interest," Gaudifier said, as if in agreement.

"I'll deny it," Blaise said.

"Oh don't be stupid, Blaise," Alaric snapped, throwing the mug down. "The real question is who here knows the Captain is Arthur Pendragon of Camelot?"

"_What?_" Gaudifier and Cole said, almost in unison. Sagramore stared agape at Blaise, but the others were unmoved.

"Half of us? _Half_ of us? And nobody thought to say anything?" Alaric seethed as he stared at the gathered men.

"We didn't know," Erling said, indicating his brother.

"But now I want to put a love spell on the Princess," Idris added.

"That's not funny, Idris," Blaise said.

"I'm not joking," Idris's face was suddenly hard.

"You would invite the Pendragon to Cameliard?" Alaric was aghast.

"Invite the mighty warrior Arthur to Cameliard's aid—_yes,_" Idris leaned toward Alaric.

"A union with Camelot could prove beneficial," Sagramore mused.

"_What?_" Cole stared, stunned at Sagramore.

"We are not so well-off that we can defend ourselves indefinitely." Idris's voice was cold. "Our situation isn't going to change just because _you_ don't like our options," he glared at each man.

"We can defend ourselves just fine," Cole said.

"Uther's intolerance is too great," Gaudifier said. "You would protect our kingdom from one conqueror by sacrificing half of it to another."

"Not half—all—Uther would see every single one of us destroyed," Alaric said. "Those who don't practice magic would be killed for standing next to one who does. Conquest is the last thing you have to worry about from a Pendragon."

"You speak more truly than you know," Tiernan finally spoke. "Arthur is no conqueror. Though he is a uniter. And a defender."

"That seems to be the real question," Lucas the Old said, "are we dealing with the father or the son—and are the two the same?"

"Arthur is not Uther," Blaise said.

"He was raised by Uther, ingrained with Uther's hatred of the old ways—" Alaric said.

"—Is that what you fear, Alaric," Blaise said, "that your way of life will disappear?"

"Don't you?"

"Our ways are not dead yet," Tiernan turned to Alaric. "And it won't be a single man that destroys them."

"Forget the old ways," Cole said. "As long as Uther lives, Arthur will be duty-bound to follow his king—if he's as honorable as you say," he sneered at Blaise.

"And then?" Arthur's voice rang clear from behind the throne—he stood in the open doorway, his hand on the door. Merlin pressed himself tighter against the wall, but Arthur's entire attention was focused on the council. No one knew how long he had been listening.

"Must I do as my father does?" Arthur closed the door and approached the gathered men. "Do you also think I'm just his mindless mutt?"

"You really want that answered?" Cole said.

"I don't actually care what you think of me," Arthur snapped. "I want to know what you're going to do."

"What are _you_ doing?" Alaric sneered.

"Alaric . . ." Tiernan whispered.

"No," Erling said. "I want to know that—why are you here, Arthur?"

"A manticore brought me, remember?" Arthur said.

"That's why you _came_," Blaise said.

"Why stay_?_" Erling said. Arthur looked at Erling a moment, contemplating.

"My father once told me a story about King Leodogran and Cameliard—"

"A lie," Alaric said.

"How am I supposed to know that if I can't see for myself?" Arthur rounded on Alaric. "And what about you," he turned to the council, "what stories have you heard about me—or did you make them all up yourselves?"

Behind the tapestry, Merlin smiled.

"We've heard great things about you," Tiernan said.

"If there's anything the druids would like to share," Alaric swerved on Tiernan.

"I don't need stories of Camelot," Blaise said soberly. "I have memories. Would you like to hear about Uther's Purge?" he whispered in Arthur's ear, a sinister timbre in his question.

"I know about my father's Purge," Arthur replied.

"What?—that wicked sorcerers were justly executed?" Blaise scoffed. "Is that what Geoffrey's records say? Oh dear—you didn't know that there's a Book of the Purge."

The council stared at Arthur, each look a judgment of one sort. They encircled him. But Arthur was used to being the center of attention.

"I'll admit I don't know everything in the world," he said. "Maybe I stayed here to learn—is that wrong? Or maybe I stayed because I saw a chance to turn an enemy into an ally—is that not worth pursuing?"

Arthur started pacing the circle, meeting every eye. "But you'd dismiss me," he continued. "I offer my help, but you'd rather keep me as your enemy. Your wise advice to Leodogran would be to send me away because—because what?"

"Uther is a threat," Cole seethed.

"Let me handle my father."

"What does he think you're doing here?" Erling asked. Arthur looked away.

"He doesn't know," Tiernan stated softly.

"Deceiving two kings is a dangerous game," Lucas said.

"I know," Arthur admitted. "But under the circumstances I had no choice." He stood right in the center of the council, addressing each separately and yet all of them together. "We have a chance for peace between Cameliard and Camelot—if you help me. I don't want any more of this silent threat looming at the outskirts, do you? Let me tell Leodogran and my father, when the time is right."

"Are you saying you have a plan?" Sagremore said.

"We already have what peace there is to have," Cole said.

"A perpetual stalemate is not a peace," Idris said.

"And persisting in an old hatred doesn't get you any closer," Arthur said. "Please. I care about Cameliard—I would risk my life for her. I promise Camelot will not harm this kingdom."

"Can you promise that?" Alaric asked skeptically.

"Yes," Arthur said. The council glanced around at each other.

"A month?" Tiernan proposed.

"A week," Alaric said.

"As much time as he wants," Blaise said, drawing all eyes to him. "As long as he can outsmart Lady Julia and the rest of the nobility. And of course, Leodogran himself."

"Leodogran will never hear what he doesn't want to hear," Sagremore muttered.

The council glanced at each other again in silent deliberation until finally Lucas the Old spoke.

"As long as Camelot proves no threat, and as long as you continue to obey our laws, your secret is safe."

Arthur nodded in gratitude.

"But if Uther is looking for you," Lucas added, "that will not be for long."


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur's feet took him to the training field. The potion in his water had diverted him from daily training with Cameliard's knights—his own eleven knights, as well. Arthur felt as if sand was falling on him, granule by granule, burying him in the hourglass. Caradoc was right. And the council's patience would not last. Julia—Julia should have said something by now—Arthur couldn't fathom her silence, but it too would not last. Arthur considered confiding in Anna; perhaps she would understand. Perhaps her reaction would be indicative of her father's. Or perhaps telling her was as good as telling Leodogran.

He surveyed the field: Cadoc sparred with Erik, who had gladly agreed to Arthur's request to join the men. Erik won the round and Cadoc listened studiously to advice. Madoc, the youngest of Arthur's men, scratched his broken arm and strained to hear what Erik said. Arthur noticed that his men mingled with Cameliard's—Rigel (approaching Erik) retorted to a jest from Sir Alun of Cameliard, and there was good-natured laughter all around.

King Leodogran stood at one end of the field, watching.

"Did you solve your mystery?" he asked when Arthur walked up.

"I did, Sire."

Leodogran nodded to the fight. "Perhaps I should invite Erik to remain in Cameliard."

"Anna rejected him?" Arthur asked as Rigel hit the ground. "Didn't he pass your tests?"

"He did as well as expected. I do not think Anna would have accepted him, but he will withdraw his suit first—probably tonight, after dinner—someplace formal and proper."

Arthur nodded with understanding. It was Sir Alun's turn with Erik, and Rigel and Taran—all of Camelot's knights except Cadoc—were playfully jeering at him in retaliation for taunting Rigel. Arthur watched them carefully, knowing that such moments could easily turn serious. As friendly as his men were with Leodogran's, they would always belong to Camelot.

"You look very serious," Leodogran observed. "If you wish to join them . . ."

"No," Arthur said. "Erik's doing fine."

"You knew he would—you would not have asked him to step in otherwise."

"You should ask him to stay." Arthur felt Leodogran's gaze unpeeling him layer by layer; he continued to watch the training. "If Lot and Royns become a problem," he said, "you'll need all the skill you can get—Erik's too good to turn away." Arthur tried to ignore the ensuing silence and Leodogran's eyes, but it was impossible to concentrate on the fight—he no longer registered the identities of the two men, though Erik was surely still one of them.

"When I asked you to stay," Leodogran sighed, finally turning his head back to the field, "you said for as long as you could."

"I don't want to make things difficult for you."

"Has Cameliard nothing to offer you?"

Arthur pretended to consider—perhaps he did. A hundred possibilities raced through his head, many of them questions he didn't know how to ask; quests that required no sword and he didn't know how to fight.

"Is it home that summons you, or just the next adventure?" Leodogran asked.

"Neither," Arthur said. "I go where I am needed, and right now, I need to be here."

Leodogran put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, and there it stayed. The training lasted the rest of the morning; Arthur and Leodogran commented on the various skills and chatted off on tangents. When Erik called an end to the exercises, they were still discussing various affairs.

On the opposite side of the field Merlin wound his way through the dispersing knights, looking for Arthur. He had assumed Arthur would be among the men, but Merlin only spotted him once he looked across the field. Arthur stood beside Leodogran. Merlin knew by the composed expressions on their faces that Arthur had said nothing of the council, or his true identity. As for what Arthur had revealed about the potion . . .

Sir Taran caught Merlin's eye—a silent message of concern and impatience—a knowing look, one that told Merlin each one of Camelot's knights had also noticed where Arthur was. But Merlin didn't know what he was supposed to do about it—he wanted to go home to Camelot as much as anyone, and yet, he loved the freedom of Cameliard. Merlin remained as all the knights departed, watching Arthur, and thinking he was alone.

"Is he a prince, like rumors say?" Erik's voice said beside him.

"What?" Merlin turned. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur and Leodogran leave the field. "H-how would I know?—I'm just a lowly apprentice."

Erik laughed. "It's all right, Merlin. I'm not insulted." Erik also watched Arthur and Leodogran disappear. "Princess Anna deserves the best."

"So you two are getting married, then?"

Again, Erik laughed. "Court physicians are not supposed to be the flatterers."

"I'm not— . . . Anna turned you down?"

Erik hesitated. "Not exactly," he said. "I haven't told the Princess or the King yet," he added, as though revealing the deepest of secrets.

"I'm not going to say anything," Merlin said.

"Princess Anna and I were not meant to be." Erik's words tiptoed out of his mouth.

Merlin nodded.

"And it has nothing to do with their tests," Erik said defensively.

"Never said it did," Merlin said.

Erik looked at him—he had expected a talking-down.

"I can't live in a marriage without love," Erik continued.

"You shouldn't have to—love is the greatest power in the world," Merlin said.

"Somewhere out there is my true love—and when I see her, I'll recognize her as if I've known her forever." Erik stared off, talking to himself—or to some unknown antagonist. So Merlin said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

"I want to marry for something more than political convenience," Erik said firmly. "My father thinks I'm being silly—stupid is his word." Erik looked at Merlin.

"No," Merlin said. "Everyone deserves their True Love—you shouldn't marry for anything less. Besides, how else is a knight's quest supposed to end?"

Erik laughed, though not as deeply as before. "I didn't find much of a quest here," he said.

"I think you faced more than enough challenges," Merlin said.

Erik sighed imperceptibly. He seemed lighter—relieved and assured.

"Thank you," he finally said to Merlin.

* * *

Anna had been sweating, and the grime still showed on her hands and face as she chatted with a trio of druids wearing white robes. She wore breaches and a leather jerkin and nodded to something one of the druids said, her hands playing with the reins of her horse. Caradoc stood silently nearby, stroking the nose of her own black horse. She wore the same dark attire she always wore when riding—but the dust of the road had turned her boots from black to brown-grey. And unlike Anna, whose hair hung braided down her back, Caradoc's dark hair was tangled loose and windswept about her shoulders. Sir Bors, who had also ridden out with the Princess that morning, was still mounted, surveying the busy afternoon streets and the townfolk flowing around the Princess.

Arthur watched Anna, waiting for the interview with the druids to end. As soon as the druids nodded their farewells, he approached.

"Erik is waiting for you in the garden," he said.

"Thank you, Captain," Anna said, and with a tilt of her head dismissed Caradoc and Bors. A servant appeared at Anna's side to take her horse, and she handed him the reins. She laced her arm through Arthur's and together they walked toward the castle, Anna smiling and nodding to passers-by.

"Erik bores you," Arthur stated.

"Erik is kind and courteous," Anna said, waving her fingers to a young girl who curtsied with an apron full with apples.

"He would have been good for Cameliard," Arthur said.

"'Would've been'? You've been talking to father."

"He thinks Erik will withdraw his suit."

Anna sighed as they entered the castle. "I can't give Erik what he wants—a lovely princess to end his story happily."

They ascended the stairs. "What do you want?" Arthur asked.

"What do I want?" Anna repeated slowly after a moment's pause. "I want my kingdom safe and my people happy," she said neutrally.

Arthur sensed she was holding something back, but he was not so deep in her confidence that she would say more. "Don't we all," he said. It was true enough—a goal he himself coveted and a failure he feared. They continued in pensive silence to Anna's chambers and Arthur held open her door. As she entered the room, she untied her hair and loosened her braid, still deep in thought. She scratched her head and opened her wardrobe, unwinding her long tresses with wiggling fingers and staring at her clothes.

"I'll send for Rhona," Arthur said.

"I'm not my servant's doll," Anna said curtly. And then caught herself. She closed her wardrobe and her eyes—Arthur heard her sigh.

"I can dress myself," she said, invoking a lighter tone as she approached him. "You, on the other hand look like you need all the help you can get. Or is Merlin the one making this mess?" she ruffled Arthur's hair.

"No," Arthur said, playfully batting her hand away. "When he did it, it looked much worse."

"I'm sure," she said, pushing Arthur towards the door. "Now, unless you'd like to start a scandal with me, it is time to leave."

"But a scandal is all I've ever wanted," Arthur protested, pretending to resist as Anna pushed.

Anna laughed, and for one second they stayed there, Anna's hand on Arthur's shoulder, Arthur leaning—smiling and open. And then the smiles faded, each a mirror to the other.

"My Lady," Arthur said as he bowed his head and left.

* * *

Torches flickered sporadically in the throne room, and deep shadows hung with the tapestries, competing with the night. Most of Cameliard had retired. Yet Lady Julia's footsteps echoed across the floor as she proceeded to the throne where King Leodogran sat slumped and contemplative—he sat in darkness, though his lined features were clear enough in the meager torchlight. In one hand he grasped the goblet meant for his daughter; the other held the mug meant for the Captain of his guard.

"One gives you love," Leodogran said as Julia stopped in front of him, "and the other takes it away. Choose."

"Does this game have a point?" Julia asked. The room seemed empty, even of the two of them.

"Don't worry, Julia—I know you have never resorted to such measures—you think far too highly of yourself."

"Does this game have a point."

Leodogran circled the goblet's base on the arm of his throne. "I know why someone tried to enchant Anna. Again." He stopped the motion and looked at Julia. "But why the Captain?"

"How would I know?"

"Your web covers many walls."

"Maybe not everyone is stupid enough to ignore the Captain's secrecy."

"They are stupid enough to ignore his deeds. He has served Cameliard honorably."

"And you were hoping your daughter would notice?" Julia said. "She has noticed, Leodogran. She has noticed what you have trained her to notice, and she has noticed what only a woman could notice. But even if the Captain were to court her, she would never accept him—you've made damn sure of that."

Leodogran stood suddenly, and the goblet hit the floor, rolling with a tinny, grinding sound.

"Anna is my legacy," Leodogran said, "why should she not be my heir?"

"She _is _your heir."

"And yet it is her husband who will rule after me. But all you have presented to me—"

"To _Anna_."

"—are spoiled twits who think they know everything."

"Is that what you think of Erik?" Julia said, wounded.

Leodogran sat down heavily. "Erik is a noble young man who does what he is told and follows whatever plan somebody has laid out for him. This makes him a good soldier. He is an excellent fighter; he has no idea what the crown brings."

"Well he certainly won't learn what nobody teaches him. You don't know what Erik could become. Not even Blaise can see the future."

Leodogran smiled weakly. "It does not matter now—Erik has withdrawn his suit."

"Anna would not have chosen him anyway—she will never choose a husband so long as her head is filled with your empty promises."

"She can do the job, Julia. You know it, the council knows it, the servants know it—every man, woman and child in Cameliard knows it."

Julia sighed and pinched Leodogran's chin with her thumb and forefinger, lifting his gaze to hers. "Anna will make an exceptional Queen, Leo. You are the only one who sees something wrong with that."

Leodogran pulled his head away from her hand. "Not even Blaise can see the future," he said quietly.

* * *

Merlin carefully studied the book, barely conscious of the three orbs of light floating stationary above him—he had long ago mastered that spell and could conjure it in his sleep. Several candles were lit around the small room, and both his and Arthur's beds had been turned down for the night. Merlin heard the door open behind him, but was glued to his book.

"Just put it beside the basin," Merlin said.

"What?" Arthur demanded. Merlin jerked around; Arthur stood in the open doorway.

"Uh . . ."

Arthur made an exasperated sound and almost shut the door on the servant just arriving behind him. The servant recovered, managing to keep the ewer of water he carried from spilling. Merlin indicated a small table between the two beds where an empty basin waited. Neither Merlin nor Arthur budged until the servant had gone.

"I see you've gotten used to ordering servants around," Arthur said.

"Have I?" Merlin returned to his book.

"Yes, Merlin, you've . . ." Arthur said, losing interest in Merlin, drawn instead to the three hanging orbs of light. He approached them, as if they called him forward—they seemed so familiar . . . Merlin felt Arthur's closing presence; his eyes flicked up to the lights that absorbed Arthur's attention.

Merlin slammed the book shut and cleared his throat—the orbs vanished.

"Have you conjured that before?" Arthur pointed up at the empty air.

"To read on a horse."

Arthur glowered in annoyance. He tore off his belt and tossed it to the floor. He moved to the ewer and splashed water into the basin. He plunged his hands in and soaked his sleeves. Accidentally. The scarlet fabric changed to dark brown beneath the water.

"Is that light easy to do?" Arthur fidgeted with his sleeve-ends underneath the water as candlelight flickered with the ripples.

"Easy enough, I guess—I'm still learning." Merlin watched Arthur.

"Were you learning in Camelot?" Arthur said to the water.

Merlin made an uneasy attempt at laughter. "You'd have had my head."

Arthur swung around, rocking the basin and sending water over the side to pool on the wood. He glared at Merlin as drops trickled down his fingers onto the floor. "You think so?" He looked at his hands in frustration and flicked water off before reaching for a towel. "I guess now we'll never know."

"Arthur . . ."

"I'm not mad," Arthur insisted. "You were protecting yourself, that's only fair. It would've been wrong for you to endanger others—Gaius knows, doesn't he?"

Merlin didn't answer.

Arthur sat heavily down on the bed. Slowly, idly, he removed his boots.

"Arthur, when we go back to Camelot—"

"You're not going back to Camelot. You have to stay in Cameliard—or a powerful sorceress might get mad and destroy the kingdom," Arthur scoffed—a hollow, mirthless chuckle. "It's hard to see my father as entirely wrong," his pressed his hands against his face.

"Do the knights know?" Merlin asked apprehensively.

Arthur spoke into his fingers. "They know Ninaeve threatened Blaise into taking you as his apprentice—they think you're learning medicine."

"And if they don't, we can blame Ninaeve?"

"Merlin . . ." Arthur lifted his head.

"I'm not leaving you. You're a prat, but I'm not leaving you."

"What about Cameliard?"

"I don't think Ninaeve would really destroy it. Blaise can still teach me—I can borrow his books—"

Arthur stood abruptly and paced the room.

"You didn't tell Leodogran who you are," Merlin finally said.

"This isn't about me."

"What about Cameliard? Uther is—"

"_I know_, Merlin," Arthur said, still pacing. "I'll have to leave soon." Arthur stopped. "But what about magic?" Arthur stared—an awkward supplicant—at Merlin in his chair, who didn't answer. "Blaise says there's a record of the Purge."

"You didn't know?"

"Stupid, isn't it," Arthur paced the length of the room again. "I grew up with the Purge, but . . ."

"Do you remember it?"

Arthur shook his head. "I was a baby. And even when I could to fight—the Purge was too important. I was a nuisance, getting in the way." Arthur sat down on his bed again, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring through a distance only he could fathom.

"It wasn't your fault," Merlin said quietly.

"I wanted to be a part of it—to make my father—"

Silence.

"You're not responsible for your father's actions, Arthur."

"An heir is responsible for a legacy, Merlin."

"Arthur?" Merlin moved from the desk to his bed, sitting down across from Arthur. "How do you feel about magic?" They stared eye-to-eye, Merlin afraid to look anywhere else.

Arthur broke the contact, regarding instead his hands, the floor, his feet; Merlin held his breath.

"You saved my life," Arthur said quietly, staring at his fingers. It was not a question but Merlin nodded nonetheless. Perhaps Arthur saw the movement, or maybe he came to some internal decision—he nodded his head also, a small, half-conscious motion. He looked at Merlin.

"It's going to be all right," he affirmed.

Merlin allowed the vaguest of smiles to find his lips—he knew he needed to believe for the sake of Arthur's conviction. And he did believe—he believed in the depths of his soul; he felt only certainty, as if Destiny were filling him in. Merlin wished there was some gesture or word he could give Arthur, to assure him, but it all felt inadequate. He felt the emptiness of the space between their knees as Arthur's gaze again wandered—he turned it into supportive closeness, willing Arthur to realize he was not alone.

* * *

"You actually trust him?" Cole said to Sagremore.

"He has acted on Cameliard's behalf at great risk to himself," Sagremore replied to the fire in front of him. His tone was noncommittal and he acted only partly aware of Cole standing nearby.

"What about Uther?" Cole persisted. He felt restless and started fidgeting with a tapestry hanging on one of the walls of Sagremore's chambers—it depicted an irrelevant scene.

"Kings die," Sagremore said. "New kings forge new orders."

Cole turned impatiently to stare at Sagremore's fire-lit profile. "Is that your way of saying that Arthur is different from Uther?"

"He has already shown acceptance of magic—so yes, I think he thinks for himself."

"Uther tolerated magic once, according to the stories."

Sagremore gazed into the flames. "Uther declared war on something that's a natural, vital part of the world. It's amazing he survived his own folly for so long."

Cole strode, weight on cane, to the other side of the room, saying, "You should be worried that he succeeded so well with impunity. If ever there were a warrior to fear, it's Uther."

"And yet his son defies him—does that mean Uther has grown weak, or that Arthur is strong?"

Cole stared at Sagremore a moment, perturbed by his studied lack of emotion, but Sagremore did not turn to Cole for an answer to his question. Cole looked to the mundane fire, then let his eyes lose focus over Sagremore's head. Finally, he turned around to gaze into the window glass. Sagremore finally glanced at him.

"Don't let Alaric worry you, Cole. No one man can wipe out magic; and if Uther used it in the past when it suited him, don't assume that means he understood it. And don't assume impunity—magic is patient. As for Arthur, we'll see his true nature soon enough by how he deals with Uther's search for him. Why are you so paranoid?"

Cole stared into the space between the glass and the night. "Because Arthur is not the only one playing a dangerous game."

_-end-_


End file.
